


Two Eyes and a Cup of Sighs

by bison_daycare



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: (oh my god they were roommates), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chizuru thinks he is sweet, Crush at First Sight, F/M, Here is the SaiChi coffee shop AU no one asked for, Meet-Cute, Saito and Souji are roommates, Saito has no idea what a crush is, She's right, Souji is trash but also a solid wing-man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bison_daycare/pseuds/bison_daycare
Summary: Saito may not know anything other than her name, but he knows the things that count. He knows she orders the same beverage every time they run into each other in the small shop, he knows how her eyes dance when she laughs, he knows how her cheeks blossom when they stare just a touch too long.He knows her better than he should a stranger in a coffee shop.





	Two Eyes and a Cup of Sighs

**Author's Note:**

> So I mentioned on Tumblr a while ago that I was thinking of writing a Coffee Shop AU for these adorkable children. 
> 
> I would have gotten this out sooner if I hadn't gotten caught up in the release of Edo Blossoms. Take my soul. Don't give it back. I beg. 
> 
> I'm new to writing for this fandom, though I would like to dabble in it a bit more. So please enjoy, and reviews are always appreciated!

The aroma of fresh coffee tickles his senses - a pleasant qualifier as his mind works fastidiously on his assignment. Research papers are a tedious, albeit necessary evil - though they hardly qualify as his favorite pastime. Still, it's his duty, and a part of working towards a degree. Besides, if it gives Saito a reason to escape the strict confines of the University’s campus for a short while, he’ll take the distraction for what it’s worth. 

Not that he doesn't enjoy his roommate; as far as arbitrary living accommodations go, he would consider himself fortunate. Discrediting the occasional stray dish left vacated in the kitchenette’s sink, Souji was clean. He, generally speaking, respected boundaries. Saito could handle the rogue, snappy comment. It was far preferable to the alternative.

Still - the relentless cycle of going to classes, studying with similarly focused peers, eating in dining halls that will inevitably lead to a cluster of companions congregating at one table - it was weighing on him. Being an introvert within an institution that is designed to assist students in the endless quest of  _ socializing  _ can be a trail all its own. 

He used to retreat to the library until a classmate, Heisuke, discovered the isolated corner he would hole himself up in. And though the boy is a fun conversationalist, Saito doesn’t exactly appreciate his rare time alone being coated by it.

It was nothing short of a relief when he found the quaint cafe hidden just down the block. A fair number of students would enter in a flurry, desperate for some sort of sustenance to get them through whatever class they were to be confined to for the following hour. But few would stay for longer than it took their beverage to brew, and those that did all had something to occupy their minds. 

Being surrounded by anonymous strangers is roughly the same as being alone, as far as Saito is concerned.

Saito takes another sip, the mellow flavor drawing his attention away from his work. He’s nearly eight pages in, but the thesis is dry. It’s for a Japanese history class, some prerequisite all students inevitably had to take but few seemed to really enjoy.

Saito doesn’t mind it, in the long run. It was fun learning about the samurai. And the swords were fascinating in their own right - enough that he may or may not have spent a fair amount of time googling them on his own time in the name of ‘independent research’. 

Striking azure eyes scan the expanse of the room, idly taking in the sights. The cafe is intimate, with exposed brick and low lighting and some acoustic indie station soothing the customer’s droning in the foreground. Ivy covers hanging planters, attached to a tin-plated ceiling. The style is simple, uncomplicated, aiming to relax its visitors with the mild ambiance. 

The primary entrance opens to the order line, containing a case of miscellaneous sweets and daily specials. After ordering, the customers either wait for their drinks or seat themselves. The waiting staff will eventually deliver the orders to the individual tables or hand over the beverage in to-go cups. It’s an efficient system.

His regular table, just under a small, wood-framed window offers him both privacy and a decent angle of the shop. Saito’s always enjoyed people watching. It’s fascinating, seeing how humans behave when they think no one is looking - a couple bickering in the corner, a mother striving to soothe her anxious child while balancing a phone against her shoulder, a man whose nervous tick includes absently scratching his forearm until it’s a raw, vivid red. 

There’s a table just across from him, nestled similarly against the adjacent window. A girl - she doesn’t appear too much younger than himself - is pouring over a novel, drink left neglected at the edge of the table. 

She’s absorbed in her reading, scanning page after page with a refreshing gusto. There’s a subtle turn of her lips as if she’s trying to fight a grin. Saito isn't sure what draws him to the scene, but he looks on, fascinated by the nuances - the way her lashes flutter against her skin, how she bites at the inside of her cheek. She brushes a stray strand idly out of her face, tucking it securely behind the shell of her ear. An earring glints against the natural light, too small to see clearly.

Perhaps sensing his gaze, he isn’t certain how long he let himself linger, she glances up from her reading. Her lips are parted slightly as she gathers her bearings, returning from whatever world had her enraptured. Saito isn’t surprised to feel the heat rising to his cheeks as she stares, feeling something like a child caught stealing sweets before dinner.

_ Pretty _ , he thinks, looking into the soft chestnut of her irises. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then hers are shocking in their crystalline honesty. 

His heart is in his throat, the pale pink of his cheeks deepening as they prolong the eye contact. He isn't sure what to do, what a rational response would be to this turn of events. He contemplates attempting to stumble through an introduction - but inside, he knows he's much too tongue-tied for that. 

It's equal parts disappointment and relief when a soft voice calls across the din of the cafe. Her eyes snap away, responding subconsciously to the excited, “Chizuru-chan!”

Another girl, about the same age as her companion, approaches her from the order line. 

The girl -  _ Chizuru _ , he silently reprimands - quickly grabs for her drink. She takes a sip, fighting her own blush as her friend settles into the available seat. 

Auburn hair obstructs his view and although there is a twist in his stomach that resembles disappointment, the pragmatic side of his mind assures him this is a good thing. It is hardly becoming to sit gaping at a stranger in a cafe. 

He finishes his drink in small sips, slipping his laptop into his bag with careful deliberation. He’s stalling, he knows, though he can’t rationalize this absurd need to dwell. She’s all smiles as she converses, polite but genuine, and it’s so achingly sincere. 

His final class of the day is approaching, he knows. With a resigned sigh, he rises, using the hidden exit in the corner behind his regular table.

He has to walk past her window, he realizes, and before he can stop himself he glances over. He’s surprised that she’s already there, watching, her eyes widening endearingly. He almost laughs, and can’t totally suppress the quiet smile. Her cheeks redden once more, a charming shade of pink. 

This time, though it’s faint, Saito  _ does _ laugh.

 

**-**

 

He goes back the next day, anxious, but in denial of that fact. 

He tells himself not to get his hopes up. It was a chance meeting, a fluke, and it’s unlikely he’ll ever actually see  _ Chizuru _ again. 

He almost leaves - he has a  _ million _ other things he should be doing right now -  as he peers over the mass of blank faces to his usual seat. It’s empty but, he notes with a pang of something like regret, as is the table just before his. 

The disappoint throws him off center. Practicality tells him the odds are one in a million, and he’s never been particularly good at games of chance. He sighs, absently moving forward as the line progresses. There are only a few people between him and the register, but he can’t decide if the wait- 

The girl who is currently ordering turns her head, observing the case of goods as she decides between two types of deserts. Recognition hits like a freight train and though he can only see her profile, he  _ knows  _ it’s her. 

Chizuru turns back to the server, and she’s close enough he can actually hear her as she decides on her order.

_ Gentle _ . That's the first word that comes to mind as he listens to her lilting voice. There's a measure of musicality to the timbre as she makes small talk with the barista. Saito imagines she would have a pleasant laugh. 

Something tells him he wouldn't tire of hearing it. 

He catches her order without wholly intending to, getting lost in the elegant resonance. He almost smiles when she requests raspberry syrup. Saito doesn't know her well enough to make assumptions, but there is something fitting about the addition. 

Then she’s leaving, heading towards  _ her _ table to wait for her beverage. The line moves forward, but Saito is far too distracted to move - until a businessman behind him clears his throat impatiently. 

He approaches the register, a distracted apology on his lips. He places his order absentmindedly, shaking himself. This isn’t like him - he doesn’t get so caught up in others. 

He shouldn’t be  _ this _ intrigued by a pretty stranger in a coffee shop.

Her drink arrives just as he sits down, and the devil on his shoulder is enraptured by the surprised look she shoots him. 

She smiles, a soft sort of look, one he hopes he returns but senses he butchered with his unassuming clumsiness. Still, it looks like she giggles and all of his doubts fade to the back of his mind. 

They spend their time sneaking glances, abashedly getting caught in the act, then looking down with a suppressed grin. The cycle repeats until she finally stands with something akin the regret, and gather her books. 

He’s glad he came back. 

 

**-**

 

It's complete happenstance. 

But whether it's because their schedules align in just the right way or because she's just as addicted to their innocent looks and absent companionship as himself, he doesn't believe they're total strangers any longer. 

Saito doesn't know anything other than her name, and he doubts she knows even that, but he knows the things that  _ count _ . He knows the way her face lights up as she receives her beverage, he knows the way she smiles to herself as she reads, he knows the way her cheeks redden when he glances at her. And he knows she makes him nervous in a way that makes his stomach turn and his palms clam up.

They've never spoken, but it's like they've said a thousand words. 

They're both creatures of routine, he's quick to discover. They're always there at the same time on the same days. The one exception - courtesy of a group project his peers carelessly neglected - she shoots him a look that was nearly as satisfying as her smile. There is a soft pout to her bottom lip, her eyes painted by a faded curiosity he knew she has been actively working to contain. But she wears her heart on her sleeve, something he both admires and silently covets. 

He wonders what that means for her. He’s never been good at letting others in, but something tells him that’s a quirk she’s never contended with. 

Saito shrugs in response, gesturing mildly to the textbook he threw on the table. A look of understanding comes to her face, as if wryly saying,  _ I get it. _

It’s their first “conversation” and, for what it’s worth, it leaves him breathless. 

 

-

 

A week later, she’s the one who’s late. 

Chizuru comes stumbling in, out of breath, standing to the side of the entrance as she digs through her bag. She’s flustered, he can sense it from his standard perch, and as she continues to search her school bag for what he assumes to be her wallet, the waitress delivers his usual coffee. 

He gives an absent-minded thank you, and as Chizuru finally seems to give up, Saito can't help but call the waitress back once more. 

Any worries he may have possessed fade away when she, without having ordered a thing, moves to her table. 

Chizuru must feel him watching, as she glances up with a flustered smile. He nods once, hoping to assuage some of her embarrassment. She has no reason to be flustered. It’s a common occurrence that happens to the best of them. 

As she pulls out her usual book, Saito can’t help wonder what exactly it is that has her in such a rush. He imagines the possibilities, wishing he was in a place where he could inquire directly. 

He wants to know more about her. It’s a jarring realization, but something about this feels incomplete, and he is shocked by the sheer frustration that leaves him with. 

At that moment, the waitress emerges from the kitchen, Chizuru’s coffee and a small pastry balanced atop a tray.

Out of all their interactions thus far, the look of genuine surprise and delight when her coffee is set down by a waitress with a knowing wink surpasses everything else. 

He can hear her ask, “Are you certain? But I can’t-“

Manicured hands wave away her concerns. “It’s already been taken care of. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Saito looks up at her from over his laptop, hesitant. Chizuru turns to him, positively beaming. 

He finds her stunning. 

“Thank you,” she says hesitantly, and he realizes it’s the first direct conversation they’ve ever had. 

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs far too quietly, but somehow he is certain she hears him. 

The next day, she’s already seated, and a fresh cup of coffee is waiting at his table. 

 

-

 

“You’ve been going out an awful lot lately, Hajime-kun.”

Saito wants to sigh, but he refrains. He knew it was only a matter of time before his roommate caught onto his far more frequent absences. 

 

Souji’s too keen, too observant. Not that he’s a bad person, but he can certainly be a hassle when he stumbles upon a line of question that Saito would much rather avoid. The man is incredibly skilled at rooting out those few topics, and subsequently, clinging to them until he is no longer able to wring anything else out of them. 

So Saito simply blinks, keeping his face devoid of anything Souji could latch onto. 

“I’ve been busy.”

Souji smiles, and absently, Saito wonders why he didn’t study journalism rather than photography. He’s always been skilled at getting to the core of a topic and drawing others along with him, much to their (and especially Saito’s) chagrin. 

Or perhaps it’s the idea of seeing the world through a pure, unfiltered lens that attracts him to the degree path.

“Hmm, interesting,” his tone shifts. Saito allows himself the mildest grimace, barely discernible. 

“You know, I went to that cafe just down the street. It’s pretty nice.”

Immediately, Saito stops washing the dish he had been scrubbing. His eyebrows raise pointedly, finally glancing up at his friend. 

“Actually, I saw you there. You looked surprisingly chipper, Hajime-kun. The coffee must have been exceptional.”

Saito can read between the lines. The cafe is close to campus. It’s not uncommon to see the same faces he passes on his way to class wander in and pick up a drink before returning to the institution. Souji must have wandered in one day when he was there. 

Whether or not Chizuru was there - that was the more pressing issue. 

“We should go.”

Saito glances at his roommate out of the corner of his eye. Chizuru had  _ definitely _ been there. 

“Now?”

“Sure,” Souji grins, a knowing look decorating his features,  “Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

Saito stares into mirthful green eyes for a moment. There’s nothing malicious there, as far as he can tell. Besides, Souji may enjoy talking but he has never really done anything to warrant Saito’s ire. 

And though there’s this small part of his mind that feels as though his space is being intruded upon, Saito is well aware that it’s selfish. He can’t rationalize feeling protective over a public space. 

Besides, deep down, Saito knows it’s not the store he’s wanting to keep to himself. 

So he shrugs, betraying nothing of his internal struggle. 

“...Fine. Let’s go.”

Souji grins, throwing on his jacket and shoving his hands into his jean pockets. 

For someone who’s supposedly only been there once, Souji seemed quite familiar with where they are going. The walk is a short one, which Saito is absently grateful for. Best to pull off the bandage quickly, and all that. 

Saito glances at his watch, and to his displeasure, he knows Chizuru is going to be there, sitting patiently at her table. 

And she is. As always, Saito’s eyes are immediately drawn to her. She has a laptop with her today, a large textbook open next to her. She’s absorbed in her schoolwork, and not for the first time Saito wonders if they attend the same University. 

He can feel Souji watching him, and without a word, Saito smoothly moves his attention to the menu hanging on the back wall. It’s something to do - if a bit redundant. 

He always orders his same drink, anyways. 

They place their respective orders and end up sitting at his regular table. Chizuru glances up at him, smiling warmly, until his vision is obstructed by the face of his roommates, grin as perceptive as the Cheshire Cat's. 

“She’s cute,” Souji says casually, eyes sparkling. 

If Saito didn’t possess that abnormal sense of control, he would have choked on his drink. 

“She’s why you’re here all the time, right?”

That gets a sigh. Saito may as well have waved a white flag, and coolly resigns himself to what could very well end up as an hour-long interrogation.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, trying to hold onto whatever is left of his nonchalance and failing by a frustrating amount.

Souji laughs boisterously, shifting to rest his chin on his palm. Saito can see Chizuru out of the corner of his eye, peering at the pair curiously.

“Oh, Hajime-kun, you need to take matters into your own hand sometimes.”

The waitress arrives with their drinks, and they nod in thanks. 

To Saito’s immense surprise, and mild concern, Souji drops all talk of Chizuru. Instead, the conversation turns idle, and if Saito didn’t know any better, he would say that Souji had lost interest in the girl. 

Unfortunately, Saito  _ did  _ know better and spent the remainder of their time there on edge. 

A few acoustic songs later, it was nearing time for Souji’s class, and so they grabbed what remained of their drinks and began to gather their belongings. His roommate stretched, turning towards the main doorway.

“There is an exit right here, Souji,” Saito notifies him, unsure if he is aware of the placement. 

The man simply looks at him from over his shoulder, shrugging. 

“We have to walk this way regardless, Hajime-kun. C’mon.”

Saito narrowed his eyes warily but followed Souji’s whims. 

When they pass Chizuru’s table, however, Saito is keenly aware that he made a mistake. 

Souji’s drink slips out of his hand, the lid popping off as it hits the floor. The aroma of coffee is strong as it forms a puddle on the ground - as well as all over Chizuru’s bag. 

“Whoops! Sorry about that!” Souji grins, amusement coating his words in insincerity. 

If Chizuru notices, she doesn’t show it. Rather, she waves her hands as she reassures, “It’s alright, it will dry! No harm done!” 

Saito shoots Souji a glare that would make a lesser man run in fear but only seems to further his amusement, much to Saito’s rapidly increasing displeasure. 

He grabs napkins from his table, making a conscious effort to appear less severe when he turns his attention to the girl. 

“Here,” he pushes them towards her, wishing to help her clean it but knowing if they stayed any longer Souji would find  _ some _ way to make the situation even worse. 

She stutters through words of gratitude, and Saito knows he doesn’t want to leave it there. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Saito offers, unsure of what else he has to give presently. 

Souji finally lets the laugh bubble forth when Saito roughly grabs his arm, dragging Souji out of the shop with all the strength that belies his lean frame. 

“That was hardly appropriate,” he reprimands, feeling out of control and generally not preferring it. 

“You should be thanking me, Hajime-kun. I did you a favor!”

Saito grimaces, electing to ignore the voice in the back of his head that insists on relentlessly replaying the interaction.

 

-

 

He’s late. Again. 

Nearly an hour past when he normally gets there, to top it all off. It’s the latest he’s been since they began this game, a little over a month ago. He had a meeting with a professor he could only schedule over the unofficial meeting time and one that seemed far too interested in the sound of his own voice. 

Saito bowed politely after he was given the go-ahead, and all but ran out of the room before Itou-sensei decided to detain him any further. 

Which has been known to happen.  _ Frequently.  _

He all but runs to the cafe, and when the aged sign appears in his view the relief is palpable. 

Another hand grabs for the door at the same time, fingers brushing carelessly, and Saito snaps his hand back by instinct. 

He isn’t sure what he was anticipating, but seeing Chizuru looking up at him with a look of wonderment that must mirror his own was certainly not on the list. 

It seems he isn’t the only one running behind that day.

There’s a heartbeat of just staring, neither sure what to do when a middle-aged man clears his throat from behind them. They move to the left of the entrance, out of the man’s way with muted apologizes. 

From their new position, Chizuru turns to him, armed with a charming smile and a heart on her sleeve. 

“Hi,” she sounds breathless, and his heart soars. 

“Hello,” he responds in a low voice. 

Nervously, she grasps a strand of dark hair, smoothing it securely behind her ear. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Yukimura Chizuru.”

She extends her hand, and he can only bring himself to look at it for a moment. It’s enough to give her pause, and he can see the anxiety building behind those chestnut irises. 

Saito can’t suppress the small smile, nor the puff of air that he hopes would be taken for the laugh it is. 

“I know,” he grasps her hand delicately, suddenly terrified to do anything to cause her discomfort, “Saito Hajime.”

The smile she gives is positively radiant, and he knows he can’t let this moment pass. 

He lets go of her hand to rub the back of his neck, immediately missing the feel, and can feel the blush starting to take hold. “Would you like to get a coffee?”

She nods eagerly, before catching herself and reeling in her excitement. Chizuru looks at him from underneath her lashes, and if it wasn’t already clear then Saito  _ knows _ he’s in deep. 

“I’d like that, Saito-san.”


End file.
